


night is young (and we're living)

by knoxoursavior



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU (Movies), Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, M/M, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5356913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts like this: Bruce tilting his head, turning away, a silent invitation for Clark to follow him. Clark assumes it’s so they can a find a more private location to continue their argument. </p><p>He’s mostly right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	night is young (and we're living)

**Author's Note:**

> i needed a break from studying plus there was too much ust at the start of the new bvs trailer for me not to write anything anw.
> 
> thanks so much to [ussenterpretivedance](http://ussenterpretivedance.tumblr.com/) and [selofain](http://selofain.tumblr.com/) for reading over this!! i really appreciate it. /o/
> 
>  
> 
> [also in Chinese by klkier17!](http://darada.lofter.com/post/34002f_9ee150b)
> 
>  
> 
> ( title from troye sivan's touch )

It starts like this: Bruce tilting his head, turning away, a silent invitation for Clark to follow him. Clark assumes it’s so they can a find a more private location to continue their argument.

He’s mostly right.

He doesn’t even get one word out before Bruce has him pressed against the wall, fist in his shirt and tongue in his mouth. For a brief moment, Clark panics, but then he remembers he’s not wearing the suit under his civilian clothes tonight—the same way he hasn’t been wearing it ever since that time Jimmy spilled some coffee down the front of one of his few good shirts and aggressively apologized by trying to take it off of him.

(Clark appreciated it, but Jimmy needs to understand the concept of boundaries.)

“If you weren’t so hot,” Bruce says in between open-mouthed kisses on Clark’s neck, “you wouldn’t be able to get into high-profile events like this ever again.”

“Is that a threat?” Clark says, though it comes out more desperate than offended. Bruce’s grip is light and careful on his hip, but his touch is rough as his other hand palms Clark’s cock through his slacks, and it’s probably the reason why Clark’s vision is starting to blur at the edges. “And this is Luthor’s party anyway.”

Clark can feel Bruce’s smirk against his collarbone. He’s about to be an asshole again, Clark just knows.

“It stops being his party when I show up,” Bruce says, sounding so sure of himself. It shouldn’t turn Clark on. It _shouldn’t_. “Now, be quiet, Kent.”

 _You started it_ , Clark doesn’t say, because Bruce turns him around and presses him roughly against the wall. And Clark—well, for some god-awful reason, Clark lets him.

Bruce’s dick is hard against Clark’s ass, his movements quick and jerky as he makes easy work of both his and Clark’s slacks. Soon enough the head of his cock is pressing against the small of Clark’s back, the friction unbearable despite the pre-come Clark can feel sticking to his skin.

“Sooner or later, someone is going to walk in here,” Bruce murmurs against Clark’s ear, his voice deep and gruff and _going right to Clark’s cock_ , honestly. “Will you be quiet then? Or will I have to keep a hand over your mouth?”

And then, Bruce is pressing a finger against his hole, teasing, giving Clark enough leeway to push back against him. (And when did he get lube anyway? Clark didn’t notice. He should have noticed.)

“Fuck. Bru—”

The teasing stops suddenly, the pressure against his hole gone and missed. Clark whimpers, and he knows that Bruce heard it by the way the hand on his cock tightens.

“I won’t fuck you if you don’t stay quiet, Kent,” Bruce says, and he sounds so fucking _smug_.

Clark could break Bruce’s arm without any trouble. He could push Bruce away and masturbate in peace and not have to put up with all this teasing. He could, but he won’t.

Instead, he pushes back against Bruce and keeps his mouth shut.

“Good,” Bruce murmurs, and then his finger is pressed gently inside Clark, rewarding him, promising so much more.

“I would fuck you with my tongue,” Bruce says, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather, “but that would be too messy for a bathroom stall, wouldn’t it? And I’d have to walk out there, talk to all those investors, give a speech, all the while with your taste in my mouth.”

Bruce adds another finger, and god, he curls his fingers and Clark is _gone._ He lets out a shaky breath, has to make an effort not to dent the wall because wouldn’t that be _awkward_.

“We disappear into the restroom together, and then you come back like you’ve been fucked out. They’d all know,” Bruce says, his teeth harsh as he nips at the junction between Clark’s shoulder and neck. “Tomorrow, the society pages would be filled with your name. You should probably call your editor so the Daily Planet can get the news first.”

 _Fuck you_ , Clark doesn’t say, because he does want to be fucked. He wants Bruce in him and he’s so ready and he really doesn’t want to think about Perry White right now.

“Are you going to tell them how I fucked you?” Bruce says.

 _You haven’t even fucked me yet_ , Clark doesn’t say, because finally, _finally_ , Bruce takes away his fingers and pushes in, and it feels so _good_.

Bruce so obviously knows what he’s doing, and Clark wonders how many people Bruce Wayne has fucked in restrooms, or against a wall, or on a luxurious hotel bed. Clark wonders if he always talks this much, always gets on this whole society page spiel. The answer is probably yes, but Clark pretends in this moment that maybe he’s that one special exception.

“You’re so tight,” Bruce says, his pace frantic and relentless. Clark’s blood is rushing in his ears and he can’t hear anything besides Bruce’s whispered nothings, can’t see anything besides the beige restroom wall, can’t feel anything but the sweet burn of Bruce in him.

Clark doesn’t even think he needs a hand on his dick, doesn’t think he needs any more than this to come, and yet Bruce rewards him for his silence. Bruce thumbs the head of his cock, leaves bites on his neck that border on painful, fucks into him with a ferocity he hadn’t expected.

It doesn’t take long for him to come, but then he’s been aching to ever since Bruce pressed him against the wall.

He’s boneless now, sensitive, helpless as every thrust of Bruce’s feels more and more amplified—and he’s going to think about this moment when he’s in the shower later, going to lament the fact that he’s not supposed to get hard again immediately after coming because it’s just not a thing humans do.

He lets himself be used, clenches the way he knows makes most men scream. Bruce doesn’t disappoint. He moans and he curses and he digs his fingernails into Clark’s sides. Clark breathes a laugh, because of course he wasn’t going to allow Bruce to do all the work.

And so he doesn’t relent. He bares his neck and he arches his back and he reaches out behind him to pull Bruce by his hair. Clark chokes out a sob, because anything else might take away the cock inside him.

When Bruce finally comes, it’s Clark’s name that’s spilling from his lips and Clark thinks it’s all worth it for that one quiet stutter.

“Call me if you want to hear about why you’re entirely wrong about this bat vigilante,” Bruce murmurs as he pulls out of Clark.

“I don’t have your number,” Clark says, his voice cracking from disuse.

Bruce, the fucking asshole, smirks. “Come to my room tonight. Maybe you’ll find out.”

Clark shouldn’t. Bruce is an asshole and this is going to be hell on his job. Cat is going to hound him and Lois is going to kill him, but he also kind of wants to know more about this vigilante while also maybe taking Bruce up on his offer of having his tongue inside Clark.

“Right. Where’s your room?”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://connerkent.tk/)!


End file.
